Nobody but you
by kodomo wa oishii
Summary: Harry finds asylum in a bar at a young age. not so meek anymore, how is he different from the perfect soldier dumbledor always wanted? now try to understand, he's 14, a boy's gotta know his options when it comes down to which side of the war lets him live ON HOLD REWRITES
1. Chapter 1 VERY IMPORTANT AN

**AN MONDO IMPRTANTE**: I know I'm not supposed to do this but it will only be for a little while. I'm deleting the chaps for this story and rewriting and changing the whole story. I'm sorry for some who actually liked this story but as it is it is too busy and needs refinement. so, as this is very short, i will tell you about something that happened at school one day. And as this is fanfiction, i will be changing my friends names into characters.

Severus sat at the desk, bored, clicking a pen on the edge of the fake wood desk.

"Who's clicking their pen?" yelled his enraged teacher. "Who ever it is, stop it. Now!" terrified, Severus stopped immediately, fearful of his teacher's wrath.

"Severus is!" I will fucking punch a baby. More importantly, _that person's_ baby. How dare they rat me out. Glaring around the room, he searched for the person who would have a deformed kid.

He knew who it was the minute his eyes landed on them. There was Lucius, tongue out, face screwed up in a weird expression. "What's wrong bro?" Damn. He couldn't punch that baby; it was more than likely that it could possibly be his god kid. Damnit Lucius, why do you give me these hard decisions?

After a while he came up with a solution. He would just punch Potter's baby. It could end up ugly without his help anyway.

*18 years pass*

Severus watched the little Malfoy snot prance into the classroom, gayer than a double rainbow. with his pointy nose up in the air, hips swaying and chest puffed out like a peacock, Draco Malfoy was conceited, immature, cruel, and most importantly, his godson.

well at least he isn't ugly, unlike Longbottom. Maybe he really shouldn't have gotten plastered and tried finding Potter's baby only to hit Longbottom's.

he almost felt regret. but then he looked at his godson and all his flaws and stopped the feeling. his godson had to have one redeeming quality. if it was his good looks, so be it. he can get by with them. but he still felt some regret against all odds. ti was then he decided.

+later that evening+

"Mr. Malfoy, do come in." he watched as the boy came in and sat on in the chair across from him.

"I heard a rumor that you wish to get a dark mark. i will say this, go for it." there. now hopefully the brat gets himself killed or sent to azkaban.

with his work done, Severus started to click his pen on the side of his wooden desk. but this time, no one had their baby punched.

the end.

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><p>sorry for all those offended. i kinda added on to what really happened but oh well. i hope you will read the story once it is re-uploaded.<p> 


	2. prequel part one An odd Malfoy indeed

AN: The new version. it has changed.

**must understand this is a prequel, part one of two. actual story that is shown in summ is connected by bridge chapter which is next chapter. this is a PART ONE OF THE PREQUEL.**

now, please read on. and don't forget to review in the end.

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><p>Harry stalked down the halls of Hogwarts, his red and gold trimmed robe billowing after him much like Snape.<p>

At a young age of fifteen, he was considering murder. Increasing his pace, he reached the Gryffindor tower, quickly grounding out the password to the portrait. Once inside, he quickly crossed the common room and ran up the stairs to the fourth year dorms.

screw it. Wandlessly throwing the door open he let a smirk cross his face, satisfied with the violent bang. Shoving his hand forward and yanking the fist back, he watched as his trunk came flying towards him, his possessions around the room throwing themselves inside the open trunk.

Sure that he had everything, he closed the trunk, locked it and added extra charms just to be sure. Casting a feather light charm, he levitated his trunk out the dorm, grabbing his broom near the door.

Once outside of Hogwarts, he hoped on his broom and raced towards the still boarding train. He watched as the black and red line in the distance became thicker and clearer, showing the Hogwarts express in all its glory.

Dismounting, he climbed on the train, ignoring the shouting teachers. At the first sight of an open compartment, he threw himself inside and levitated his trunk onto the overhead carry racks. Falling back onto the hard benches, he heaved a heavy sigh.

Dang it, he was going to kill his 'family'. Resting his head on the cool glass window, a dark smile curled his lips. He knew a few who would want to help. Feeling the train lurch forward, he let himself get lost in His thoughts of revenge.

**(Nadie cómo tú)**

Dark charcoal eyes surveyed the sea of people before him, a feeling of revulsion and apathy pooling into his gut. How far the once mighty have fallen. Have they any pride left? He resisted the urge to let his annoyance be known. Stifling a sigh, he glanced around the ballroom once more looking for a source of entertainment; content to ignore the women and men flocked around him like mindless sheep.

It was always the same at these functions; they seek him out and try to draw his attention, only to fail miserably. He let his eyes roam, ignoring the lingering stares he got. Leaning back against the marble column, he lifted an eyebrow as something caught his attention.

He watched detached as a server walked around clumsily, spilling the drinks balanced on his tray. He watched as the boy fumbled, the men and women he bumped into glaring down at the boy. He wouldn't usually find this interesting and by no means was the fumbling of the boy interesting, oh no, it was the look on the boy's face that made it interesting.

His face was passive, only a hint of superiority in the way he set his jaw. His face was calm, not frantic like most would be if they were in his position. His arm was steady and if he looked closely, he could see the tray being tipped purposely, spilling on some of the more stuck up ministry workers.

Letting an amused smirk cross his lips, he focused on the boy's feet and how the boy purposely walked so he was unbalanced, like he did it just to piss someone off, most likely his boss who would no doubt be yelled at and never to be hired for catering again.

It truly was interesting, fascinating how the boy could hold such superiority over the ones gracefully standing or twirling on the dance floor while he fumbled and bumped his way across the marble floor.

Raising a hand and one finger, he signaled for a drink. He watched as a dark expression passed over the boy's face, only to be quickly hidden. The boy walked his way over until he was at the edge of the sea of bodies that surrounded Lucius. Pushing his way through and spilling half the drinks on the mindless flock, Lucius was finally face to face with the little waiter.

He kept a neutral face as he surveyed the boy. Died blonde locks, fake frost blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner, and porcelain skin was presented before him. A stubborn spark in his eyes let Lucius know the boy was definitely more than he seemed.

"What would you like to drink sir?" A monotonous voice drawled. Lifting an eyebrow at the boy, he answered.

"A whisky, neat." He watched as the boy lowered the tray and after shifting through the many glasses, a glass of amber liquid was presented to him. Taking the glass from the boy, he took a small sip, trying hard to keep a grimace off his face. "You may go." He dismissed the boy. Taking a smaller sip, he swished it around once and let it go down his throat. Gin and vodka, maybe even some red wine. Damn boy messed up the drinks with all his tripping. Not so amused anymore, he continued to watch the boy as a tall boy that resembled his son Draco called out to the boy.

"Cynric!" hearing his name called, the boy turned his head and cocked his head to the side, an annoyed expression on his face. "What is it?" answered the boy now known as Cynric.

"Acel needs you." The blonde gave a look that said 'now not later.' And swiftly turned away frustrated when Cynric ignored him and continued his act. Lucius felt his amusement grow, it seems his comparison of Cynric to an untrained stallion was correct. If the boy was of better standing he would have loved to break him. But as it was, the boy was probably of filthy blood and Lucius didn't want to feel revulsion if he touched the boy.

Mentally sighing at his loss, he turned to face the man who was trying unsuccessfully to get his attention for the last few minutes.

"Minister, how are you?" Addressing the obese man he watched as the rolls of fat under the man's chin tremble and jiggle whenever the man opened his mouth to speak.

"Lucius! I am fine, my good man! Now tell me how are you and your beautiful wife?" Dick, knowingly hitting a sore topic. Gritting his teeth he sighed quietly and forced a soft smirk to appear.

"She is no longer my wife, we divorced a while back in mid-January if you recall." Considering the few cells in his brain, it was a wonder the minister remembered his own name.

"Ah, yes, sorry my good boy, but everyone knew it wasn't going to last; with it being arranged and all." Forcibly keeping his comments back, he just nodded gracefully, acting like he agreed with the minister.

"Watch out!" A voice yelled, panicked. Looking up he saw Cynric coming towards them, his tray violently leaning side to side, half the drinks already empty. As he neared Lucius and the minister, the tray violently tipped, spilling everything on the minister. "Oops." The boy said nonchalantly, not at all disturbed by the sight of the minister soaked in alcohol; or that it was his fault.

Lucius had to bite his tongue to keep his amusement from showing. It was just to entertaining, the minister was dressed in vibrant purple suede boots, black slacks, white shirt and a neon yellow robe, all soaked and stinking of alcohol. Keeping a passive face, he watched as the minister's face turned color to match his boots.

"Y-You…incompetent boy! Out! Out now! You will be paying for the damage…" shouted the minister. He watched as the boy cowered in fake fear, trembling and looking helpless. It would have fooled even Lucius if he hadn't seen the flash of amusement in the boy's eye.

"Come now minister, it is just a boy. It was a mistake, nothing a cleaning spell can't fix is it?" Said Lucius gently. He watched amused as the minister started to sputter and tremble with fury.

He turned to where the boy was standing only to see him gone.

**(Nadie cómo tú)**

He had happily disappeared once Mr. Malfoy had distracted Fudge, making use of the skeptical he had created by dumping the rest of the drinks on the minister. He didn't really know why he saved Mr. Malfoy from the humiliation, he certainly deserved it for willingly following the deranged madman who personally, he thought would look very nice as a snake skinned purse. He quite liked that idea, but it needed more matching accessories…he got it, his little snake can make the matching boots and vest!

It was a nice idea, maybe if he learned some designing spells he could off the old purse that way? It had potential and needed looking into.

He continued to walk down the wide hallway in the red wing of the ministry, looking around every corner for an elevator or his boss.

"Cynric!" Damnit, it seems his boss found him. turning around slowly, he watched the fat French man who looked awfully like his uncle stomp down the hallway, his face an ugly puce color from pent up rage and frustration. He was soon faced with a very heavy and very unhappy boss.

the fat man reached out and gripped his arm in a bruising hold. "Boy! You dare to disrespect me!" His boss spat with such venom that he was surprised when the few spots of spit that landed on his face didn't burn or painfully dissolve his skin to the bone. "You will be removed from my pay roll, no money will be wasted on you! You are lucky I can't throw you away, that I have been pre-paid to keep you for the summer."

Money what money? The Knut he got for working 36 hours straight setting up the gala and cooking the food while the fat pig claimed it was all of _his _hard work? He stared up at the fat man defiantly, and watched as the pig's face turned an even deeper color of puce.

The man was so like his uncle that he was expecting to be slapped and nailed in the gut, even prepared for it when he say a hand coming towards his cheek.

With his eyes closed, he didn't see the silver snakehead cane that stopped his boss' hand.

"Now, now, no need to be…hasty." That voice! That drawled out tone that either meant you were in deep shit or you were about to get your ass kicked by one Lucius Malfoy. Hopefully both for the tub of lard unless Lucius was insane enough and smart enough to know it was him.

He felt the hand wrapped around his arm slacken and was soon removed entirely.

"Good." Malfoy's voice dismissed the man, but being so slow and not recognizing the dismissal, the still angered tub of lard stayed.

He looked up and saw Mr. Malfoy narrow his eyes at the man. "Now, run along, I _was_ thinking of hiring your services for a ball of mine when I saw this worker spilling the drinks on the minister, very…entertaining. Yet, your actions are making me have second thoughts."

Never, ever, doubt a Malfoy with money. They know how to bend and break people at just the right price.

"Now, go." The tone was sharper now, and the tub of lard half waddled, half sprinted away, muttering the whole time about no good brats.

Once the whale had opened the doors to the gala down the hall and disappeared in the swarm of bodies, he finally addressed the Malfoy who was looking at him curiously. Finally, he looked Malfoy in the eyes and manned up.

"Thank you, Head of the Most Noble an Ancient house of Malfoy." He drawled with a exaggerated bow, eyes never leaving Mr. Malfoy's.

"How odd that one as young as you and of your…statue would know that phrase, I must say, I am impressed." He hummed, not answering the unasked questions, letting them hang in the air.

Finished with their little power struggle, he spun around on the heel of his trainers, transfigured leather shoes, and strode down the hallway.

"Tsk. Are those transfigured clothes? They even look cheap, doesn't that fool know how to dress up his help?"

Not even turning around, he ignored the jab at his clothes, he had heard much worse from his own family who had originally clothed him. honestly, idiot muggles.

"He is incompetent isn't he? But the blame lies with the family I am staying with, 14 years and they still hate magic, idiot muggles."

"Mud-Muggleborn?" It was entertaining hearing the proud Malfoy change his words, if only not to offend or hurt his feelings. It was slightly flattering.

"Maybe if you hired the slob to actually do that ball, you'll see me again."

Finally finding an elevator, he left the Malfoy in the hall all alone.

**(Nadie cómo tú)**

Sighing, he rubbed his face as he entered the bar. It was dimly lit with candles and low lights, the bar a nice thick piece of mahogany that could fit around twenty people, taking a good amount of space in the big room. He bypassed a few of the high round tables as he made his way to his normal seat.

"Long day?" Asked his regular tender.

"Yeah, stupid boss bruised me. He's lucky I wasn't a seller, then a pimp would pop him like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"Hm. Yep, spill, something happened. What did the big bad minister try to hit you with a normal cheering charm? I swear you are wound tighter than a clock. Need a good lass or lad in the picture you do."

"Ha, not going to happen anytime soon Dallin, if ever. Now, do you want to here the story or not?"

Dallin leaned forward, propping his elbows on the bar and placing his chin in his palms.

"Ooh, do tell. I want every exaggerated detail."

Snorting once again, he went off, telling a tail of humor and horrible evil bosses.

**(Nadie cómo tú)**

Two weeks later he was notified of their next job; a ball at Malfoy manor.

Fuck. He wasn't planning on this.

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><p>yeah if anyone was offended by the selling...i'm sorry. anyway, please review.<p> 


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